NE'ER THE TWAIN SHALL MEET
by Rebel8954
Summary: It was all Steven could do to not double over and laugh. Naomi and her friends had started to sing, and someone had felt their current incarceration deserved a rousing version of Tom Dooley. The uniformed officers watching over them looked like they wanted to be anywhere but where they were. GUEST APPEARANCE: Vincent Hunter, Jack Mannion.


**TUESDAY 3:30 a.m. (Pacific time)**

 _'Whistle while you work...dadada...da...da...da...da...'_

The hazel-eyed man smiled to himself. He didn't dare whistle out loud, but the tune kept running through his head as he carefully mounted the explosive charge. He critically examined it for several minutes then mentally shrugged. This was a last minute job so some quality had to be sacrificed. It was highly unlikely anyone would be examining the heating element. The weather was too warm.

Gathering his tools into a dark backpack, he cleaned the area then quietly left the building, removing all traces of his illicit entry.

Walking through the pre-dawn hours of Cascade, he smiled. Everything was set. All he needed now was some cash to get him out of Cascade.

Stopping at a phone booth outside a convenience store, he quickly dialed a series of numbers. When a voice answered, he quietly spoke. "It's done. Just make sure you keep to the schedule. There's no room for error." He hung up and rubbed his hands together. "Too bad for you that your schedule and mine aren't the same, " he muttered to himself as he bowed his head. "Lord, Thy will be done. As you purged the unrighteous from the heart of mankind by flooding the world, let the unrighteous be purged in fire."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **TUESDAY 10:03 a.m. (Pacific Time)**

Jim Ellison quickly eyed his partner then stared back at the morning traffic in front of him.

"Why do you think Sneaks sounded so scared?" Blair Sandburg casually asked.

Jim shrugged. "He wasn't so scared that he forgot to mention his fee."

Blair glanced at his new sneakers then at the other man. "We **are** stopping somewhere for that, right?"

Jim chuckled. "There's a nice store at that little strip mall on Jackson. It's on our way."

"Good, I can run into the mini-bank at the other end," Blair nodded. "I need to get some change for the rummage sale this weekend."

Jim sighed. "If I ever find out who suggested everybody get together and have one huge sale..." he muttered.

"C'mon! It's a great idea! Instead of having a lot of little individual sales, we have one big one on the PD Auxiliary Lot which is hardly used on the weekend anyway." Blair grinned. "People can easily find it and get in and out easily and everybody sells more and everybody gets more money."

Jim grunted at Blair's enthusiasm. "And just how did I get roped into using **my** truck to haul stuff over there?" He glared at his partner.

"Because you're a nice guy?" Blair innocently asked with twinkling eyes. He laughed out loud when Jim icily stared at him. "Okay, how about because it's an opportunity for you to clean out the storage area; and you don't want me driving your truck?"

Jim shook his head. As they waited to make a left turn, he took a deep breath. "Are you gonna do it?"

Blair shrugged. "Maybe. Haven't thought about it." He squirmed when Jim shot him a disbelieving look. "Light's green."

Jim made the turn and settled into his seat. "Okay, let's look at this from a different point of view. What are the reasons you **wouldn't** do it?"

"I'd be away six weeks," Blair quickly answered. He hesitantly glanced at his friend.

"And?" Jim prodded.

"And? And?!" Blair's voice rose. "And I'm in Washington DC those six weeks!"

"Quantico, Virginia," Jim corrected.

"Whatever! I'm on the east coast, and you're on the west coast! I can't pull you out of a zone by long distance!"

"Consider it one of your tests," Jim teased.

Blair felt a bolt of anger shoot through him. "Not funny, man," he muttered.

Jim pulled into the strip mall parking lot and found a parking spot. Turning off the engine, he sighed. "Sorry. I didn't think about it that way."

"You want me to go," Blair flatly stated. "You really want me to do this."

Jim released his seat belt and turned sideways to face his friend. "Yes." He held up both hands. "Hear me out, okay?"

Blair folded his arms across his chest and nodded.

"First, this is a great opportunity for you. It would be a good opportunity for anyone. But it's gonna be especially great for you."

"Because of my notorious past, right?" Blair bitterly muttered.

Jim caught Blair's eyes. "Yes," he quietly answered. "And you know I hate to admit that."

Blair sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. "You'd think I'd be jumping up and down with excitement about taking even a minimal amount of behavioral science training at the FBI Academy, wouldn't you? But all I could think of when Simon offered it to me this morning was that it was a way for him to get me out of the way for a while."

"Chief, you know Simon better than that," Jim protested.

"I know," Blair whispered. He dropped his hands and stared out the windshield. "I know that in my head. It's my heart that's uncertain, you know?"

"You aced the PD Academy **and** got your Doctorate," Jim quietly spoke. "Chief, the Feds took one look at your credentials, Simon's recommendations, and they jumped at the chance to get you. Simon's probably worried they'll offer you a position there, and you won't want to come back."

"You know I'd never do that." Blair quickly turned to look at the other man.

Jim nodded. "Even if it was in your best interest, you'd turn them down to come back." He slowly smiled. "I know that in my head. And my heart knows it, too."

"Took you long enough," Blair grunted.

"Yep," Jim nodded. After a few seconds, he asked, "So, do you want to do this?"

"Jim, it's not that simple," Blair protested.

"Chief! Do you want to do this?" Jim firmly repeated.

"Yes," Blair finally whispered.

"Then do it," Jim urged. "Don't do another Borneo."

"Hey, that turned out okay," Blair chuckled even as he protested.

"And so will this," Jim nodded. "I know you'll check in each day." He glared at the younger man. "Let me rephrase that. You **will** check in each day." He ignored Blair's snort of laugher. "I guess Simon can partner me with Megan part of the time. Or with Henri or Rafe since she and Joel are partnered up." He took a deep breath. "That would work if we told them about this Sentinel stuff."

Blair stared at Jim in shock. "What did I just hear?"

"You heard me," Jim grumbled.

"Are you serious?" Blair's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not talking about making it front page news in the PD newsletter, okay?" Jim grunted. "I'm talking about the core group of Major Crimes. People we completely trust. Joel. Rafe. Henri. Simon and Megan already know."

"I'd feel better," Blair admitted. "That way, we're not dependent just upon Simon or Megan. God forbid anybody like Zeller takes them both down at the same time. But if they **were** hurt and something happened to me..."

"Yeah, right, I get the idea, Chief," Jim brusquely interrupted. He took the key out of the ignition. "Get your change while I get Sneaks' fix."

Blair put a hand on Jim's arm. "Hey." When the other man looked at him, he smiled. "We'll figure out a way to tell them, okay? It'll be what you're comfortable with and who you're comfortable with."

Jim took a deep breath then nodded.

"Thank you."

Jim frowned. "For what?"

"Trusting me," Blair quietly answered. "Trusting me to go and then to come back. Trusting me to let others protect you when I'm not around."

Jim cleared his throat. "Goes both ways, Chief." He opened the door. "Get moving. We don't want to be late."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **TUESDAY 10:13 a.m. (Pacific time)**

"Yeah, Sneaks, I know I'm late!" Jim hissed as he peered over the hood of his truck. "I'm sure the info is important, but I've got a little situation here that..." Jim quickly ducked as the door opened and a quick shot was fired at the police officers. "Yes, that was a gunshot! Get back with me later!"

Closing the cell phone, Jim disgustedly threw it onto the front seat of the truck.

"Ellison! What the hell's going on? Can't you two even meet with an informant without getting into a shootout? And where's your partner?" Simon managed to finish his rant as he joined Jim behind the safety of the truck. As he released the safety on his gun, he glanced around. Sighing, he looked at Jim. "Don't tell me Sandburg's inside."

"As you wish, sir," Jim formally replied.

Simon muttered under his breath. "You know, I'm rethinking this whole 'send Sandburg to the FBI' thing. I'm not sure the Feds can handle it."

"There is that, sir," Jim admitted. The two men exchanged a quick grin, then Jim nodded towards the bank. "The perp's in the foyer, but staying back so we can't get a clear shot at him. There's a right-angle turn just inside the door that's keeping him out of our range."

"Can you hear anything?" Simon muttered.

Jim shook his head. "Someone must have hit the silent alarm. Before I knew what was going on, there were patrol cars moving in. The perp must've seen them 'cause he started firing out the door." He glanced around at the ring of patrol cars. "There's been too much noise out here for me to try to listen to what's going on in there."

"Jim, if we're going to convince Sandburg to go to Quantico and take this training, he's going to need to know you can function without him," Simon warned.

Jim nodded. "Understood, sir. But he doesn't need me zoning out either. That'll keep him here quicker than anything."

"So just do your...whatever you do good enough to convince him to go but not good enough that he doesn't think he needs to come back," Simon ordered.

Jim glanced at the other man for several seconds. "Yes, sir."

Simon glared at him. "Do you hear anything in there?" he demanded.

Jim turned his head and stared at the open door. "He's coming out...with a hostage."

"Do I even need to ask?" Simon grumbled. Speaking into the microphone, he warned, "We may have the perp coming out with a hostage. Hold your fire. Repeat. Hold your fire."

 _'This is_ _ **not**_ _my fault. I just went inside for change! Just how many deities have I pissed off for this to keep happening? I think I'll just open a franchise of Hostages 'R Me or something. Man, I will_ _ **never**_ _hear the end of this one!'_

Blair blinked as he stepped into the bright sunlight. The robber's arm was snugly around his throat and the cool metal of the gun rested against his right temple. Blair winced as the robber shouted next to his ear.

"Listen up! I want a car with a full gas tank! You send those choppers away! As soon as I clear the city limits, I'll let him go!"

 _'Yeah, right.'_ Blair refrained from rolling his eyes. Instead, he saw his partner leaning against the truck, weapon pointed in their direction. _'And there's the Blessed Protector himself! And is he in full BP mode or what?'  
_  
"No one's been hurt yet!" Simon yelled. "Let's keep it that way!"

"No one's been hurt. That's a good one." The robber jammed the gun against Blair's head. "Isn't it?"

"Yeah, a real good one," Blair hurriedly agreed.

"This guy's ID says he works with you cops! So you're not gonna risk one of your own! Quit stalling!" The robber tapped Blair's head with the gun. "If he only knew I've already hurt a lot of people. Well, they weren't really people, you know. They were kinda like you, **Sandburg**. God's creatures that just didn't know their place."

 _'Oh, damn. This isn't good.'_ Blair fixed his eyes on Jim and softly whispered. "He's not going to give it up or let me live."

Blair watched with fascination as Jim's eyes grew even colder than he thought possible. He saw Jim whisper to Simon who briefly nodded in return. As Blair closed his eyes, he thought, _'That's my Sentinel. The biggest baddest kitty cat of 'em all.'_

A split second later, Jim fired.

Blair felt the bullet passing next to his right cheek, then heard the robber scream in pain. He was pulled to the ground as the robber fell backwards.

Opening his eyes, Blair rolled to one side as he heard the cops run towards them shouting for the man to remain on the ground.

Jim quickly kicked the robber's gun to one side where Simon picked it up.

Simon glanced at the now useless weapon. Jim's bullet had hit it at an angle to send it upward and out of the man's hand. He heard a low whistle from one of the uniformed officers and the muttered comments of those who thought Jim had shot the man and not the weapon.

"Sandburg! Was he alone?" Simon barked.

"Yeah...just him." Blair was slowly getting to his feet with Jim's help.

"Conner! Taggart! Make sure everybody's okay in there!" Simon ordered. "Sandburg..."

"It's not my fault! I just wanted change!" Blair quickly interrupted.

Simon sighed. "Sandburg, are you hurt?" he asked in a softer voice.

"Uh...no, Si..sir. I'm fine."

Simon noted Blair's pale complexion and looked at Jim. He saw Jim glaring at the bank robber who was being handcuffed and taken to a patrol car. "See to your partner, Ellison."

"Yes, sir." Jim took Blair by the arm and led him towards the truck.

"I'm okay, Jim!" Blair protested.

"I know," Jim nodded. "But I don't think Simon wants me anywhere close to that guy."

Blair looked over his shoulder and nodded.

"Thanks."

Blair looked up at Jim in surprise. "For what?"

"Trusting me to make that shot. Trusting me to keep you safe as best I can."

Blair glanced down at the ground then elbowed his partner. "Cuts both ways, man. Cuts both ways."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **TUESDAY 11:32 a.m. (Pacific time)**

"Hey, betcha ya make the evenin' news stoppin' that bank robbery 'n all."

"Just what I live for, Sneaks," Jim half-smiled. He glanced around the nearly full parking garage. "Not your usual meeting place. Nothing to eat here."

Sneaks shrugged. "I'd rather keep breathin' than eat if you know what I mean." His dark eyes were continually moving, only briefly stopping when he saw Blair leaning against the side of the truck that was parked several spaces away.

Jim slowly brought the shoebox from behind him. He smiled to himself when Sneaks' eyes fixed on the box. He pulled it back as the informant reached for it. "Uh-uh. You know how this game is played."

"Ain't no game," Sneaks sullenly denied. He moved his weight from one foot to the other. "You remember the Sunrise Patriots?"

"Kincaid's in Starkville." Jim's eyes narrowed as he dropped the teasing tone of voice.

"Yeah, but he's still got friends on the outside." Sneaks glanced around and lowered his voice. "And they brought in some guy from back east. Guy's good at setting off bombs, you know?"

"What's the target?" Jim crisply asked.

Sneaks shrugged. "Dunno. Guy like me just don't exactly sit at the same table with guys like that, ya know?" He licked his lips as he stared at the shoebox. "All I know is that this guy's a real nut. Likes to blow up stuff. But he fits in with those whacko Sunrise dudes. You know...thinks like 'em."

Jim nodded. "You hear anything else, you call me. Understand?" He handed over the shoebox.

Sneaks cradled the box against his chest and backed away. "These guys are scary. They'd just as soon blow me away as look at me...and they don't wanna be lookin' at somebody like me anyways. Get it?"

"Got it. Take off," Jim nodded. "And watch your back."

Sneaks nodded once before turning and running towards the stairs. Jim listened carefully but heard no one following the young informant. Turning, he walked back to Blair who frowned as he got closer.

"What is it? That look on your face isn't a good one."

Jim stopped next to his partner. "Looks like Kincaid's planning something."

"What?!" Blair's voice rose in pitch and echoed around them. Shaking his head, he lowered his voice. "That guy's in Starkville! What does it take to get him to quit?"

 _'A bullet in the head.'_ Jim shook his head at his silent thoughts. "Let's go, Chief. We need to brief Simon."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **TUESDAY 12:10 p.m. (Pacific time)**

"Ellison! Sandburg! Looks like we've got an ID on your bank robber." Simon stood in the door of his office. "His fingerprints raised more red flags than I've seen in a long time." He handed a file folder to Jim.

"Professional bank robber?" Blair asked.

Simon shook his head. "His fingerprints were found at a bombing scene in DC. He's suspected of being responsible for other bombings around the country."

"Bombings?" Jim quickly opened the file and began reading.

"Something I should know about?" Simon asked when Blair stepped closer to his partner to read.

"My informant said the remnants of Garret Kincaid's group brought in some guy from back east to blow up a building," Jim quickly explained.

"So why was he robbing a bank?" Blair frowned.

"A better question is did he try and rob the bank before he planted the bomb or after?" Jim closed the folder and looked at Simon.

"I've got Brown and Rafe checking out rooming houses and hotels," Simon explained. "He didn't have much money on him so maybe we caught him before he planted it."

"I don't suppose he'll just tell us about it, will he?" Blair stared at the other men then shook his head. "Guess not."

"Who's the primary on the DC bombing?" Jim asked.

Simon crossed his arms across his chest. "I've already called the DC police. They're sending the primary, a Vincent Hunter, to serve the warrant and extradition request they have on Parish." Simon grinned. "The DC Commissioner practically had the guy on the plane even as I hung up."

Jim groaned. "Sir, we can't let them just waltz in and outta here with this guy. If he's planted a bomb..."

Simon held up his hands. "I made it plain that Parish stays right here until we resolve this situation."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and Sandburg..." Simon waited until Blair turned back around. "Hunter will arrive at 8:30 tonight. I've got a dinner meeting with the Mayor and City Council in the Chief's office upstairs until 8 p.m. Use my car to pick him up at the airport and bring him back here. We'll have a quick briefing then."

"Me?" Blair pointed at his chest.

"Yes, you," Simon nodded. "And don't scratch the paint job!"

Blair followed Jim into the bullpen. "Why me?" he finally complained.

"Maybe Simon's giving you a chance to ask this guy some questions about Quantico," Jim shrugged.

"Why would **he** know anything about it?" Blair asked.

Jim shrugged as he sat behind his desk. "He's from DC. Probably knows something. Just Simon's way of nudging you."

Blair folded his arms across his chest. "I'm quite capable of making up my own mind in my own time."

Jim glanced up. "I thought you **had** made up your mind?"

Blair irritably shrugged. "I said I wanted to do it. But I'm still thinking about actually doing it."

Jim looked past his partner to where Henri and Rafe were entering the bullpen. "Find anything?"

"Found a rathole rooming house over on Jefferson where I wouldn't leave a dog," Rafe shuddered.

"Room 320," Henri added. "One suitcase half full of clothes. We dropped it off at the lab. Maybe they can tell us something."

"We're pulling the calls from the pay phone in the lobby, but it's too much to hope that he was that careless," Rafe grumbled. "From the file Captain Banks showed us, he's not a careless man." He grinned at Blair. "Unlucky today, yes. Careless, no."

Jim nodded. "Probably used a stolen cell phone or random pay phones." He sighed. "Okay, let's put together what we have. Briefing room two in five minutes."

"Where is Parish anyway?"

"At Cascade General," Henri chuckled. "Seems when Dead-Eye Ellison here shot the gun out of his hand, he caused a little damage to Parish's fingers. The man was practically hysterical at the thought of losing some of his finger mobility."

"My heart bleeds," Jim grunted as he stood.

"Hell of a shot, by the way," Rafe commented with a raised eyebrow.

Blair saw Jim momentarily hesitate. "Tell me about it," he quickly said with a grin. "I swear I saw that bullet waving at me as it passed!"

Jim rolled his eyes as Henri laughed out loud. "We've got intel that Parish may be tied to the Sunrise Patriots and has planted or intended to plant a bomb. I want a security detail tight around him in case those jerks try to spring him."

Sobered, Henri nodded. "I'll get on it right now." He elbowed Rafe as they walked away.

"What?" Rafe frowned.

"Hell of a shot?" Henri muttered.

The well-dressed detective nervously shrugged. "Well…it was."

Standing at his desk, Jim frowned.

"Jim?"

Jim turned to see Blair worriedly staring at him. "Nothing, Chief." When Blair began to irritably tap his foot, he sighed. "Okay, nothing that can't wait until we get this case closed." He tapped Blair's forehead. "Just thinking about that little Major Crimes summit meeting we talked about, that's all."

Blair sighed. "Yeah. Right."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

TUESDAY 3:15 p.m. (Eastern time)

Commissioner Jack Mannion closed the blinds to his office. The late afternoon sun was far too bright for his liking. It shone like a spotlight on the visitor's chair. _'Or an interrogation light.'_ The thought brought a brief smile to his face. He managed to mask the smile by the time he turned around and sat behind his desk to face his visitor. He patiently waited for the man to finish reviewing the file in his hands.

Captain Vincent Hunter finally glanced up. His cold blue eyes barely registered any emotion. "So Parish is in custody, and they're waiting on us to get him?"

Mannion slowly nodded. "They've requested that we hold off on the extradition request until they've determined if he's involved in anything there. They have information from an informant that he was to plant a bomb in Cascade. The question is whether he's already planted it."

"Informant." Hunter said the words as though tasting vinegar. Yet he still managed to make the word both a statement and question.

"Apparently a reliable informant," Mannion corrected himself with an apologetic smile. "According to this informant, Parish has hooked up with some of their local bad boys. When they ran his name through their computer, our warrant popped up

Hunter closed the file and stared at Mannion. "Why are you telling me this? It's not my case anymore."

"You were the lead officer," Mannion neutrally replied. "You know more about that case than anyone else." He leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. "He got away from us once before. I want him back. There are nineteen graves that deserve to have him stand trial."

Hunter quickly brushed aside the memory of a bombed children's center from five years earlier. He'd seen the bodies less than an hour after the explosion. He didn't need to remember them in his mind to recall the anger and frustration they'd all felt when Robert Parish disappeared.

"I've spoken with Captain Simon Banks of the Cascade Major Crimes Division," Mannion finished. "He'll have someone meet you at the airport. Your tickets and hotel reservations should be ready within the hour. You'll leave this afternoon."

Hunter barely nodded. "I'll keep you informed."

Mannion watched as Hunter left his office. He leaned back in his chair and wondered if he should warn Captain Banks.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **TUESDAY 9:15 pm (Pacific time)**

"Meet the plane, Sandburg. Pick up a visiting officer from DC, Sandburg. Bring him back to the station, Sandburg. Don't get sidetracked, Sandburg."

Blair Sandburg was ticked. Said plane with afore-mentioned visiting officer from DC was late…which meant he had nothing to do but think about Simon's proposal and Jim's surprising offer to inform the core members of Major Crimes about his Sentinel ability. His thoughts kept going in circles as he tried to balance what he wanted to do with what he felt was best to do. It hadn't helped when Simon reminded him that he needed an answer within a few days if Blair was to be included in the next class at Quantico. Then Simon had shoved car keys into his hand and ordered him to the airport along with an admonition to return the car in its pristine condition. Blair had started to comment that **he** was driving; not Jim. But one look at Simon's stressed countenance zipped his lips.

Just as the place from Washington DC (with stops in Chicago and Denver) was announced, his cell phone rang.

"Hello." Blair quickly answered as he watched the airline attendants operated the walkway to the plane.

"Sandburg! Where the hell are you?"

"Hi, Simon. How are you? I'm fine, thank you," Blair grinned.

"Sandburg!"

"Keep it to a dull roar, Simon. You'll drown out the jets."

"Sandburg, I swear…"

"The plane was delayed, Simon. I can't bring the guy back until he gets here," Blair soothingly interrupted. "They're deplaning now."

"Get back here as soon as you can," Simon ordered.

"Hey, Simon. How am I supposed to recognize this guy anyway?" Blair asked.

"Just hold up the sign with his name on it," Simon growled before hanging up.

"Yeah. Like I'm gonna do that and look like a dork," Blair grumbled. He positioned himself as the airline attendant opened the door. "Okay, the guy's a DC cop. How hard could it be to spot him?" he muttered.

Discounting the women, he carefully observed each man. _'Businessman. Businessman. Lawyer. Marine. Jim. Business…Jim?!'_ Blair stood in stunned silence as Jim Ellison, carrying a dark leather suitcase, walked past him without a single glance in his direction. "Jim?" When the man continued to walk away, Blair looked at the rest of the deplaning passengers then back at Jim who had stopped and was looking around. Taking a deep breath, he walked closer to Jim.

The man turned, as though sensing Blair's approach. The cold blue eyes moved over the younger man, automatically cataloging his potential risk factor…then dismissing him as any sort of threat.

Blair's shoulders stiffened. "Captain Vincent Hunter?" he guessed.

"And you are?"

Blair managed not to shiver. Not only did this man have Jim's face but he had his voice as well. "Blair Sandburg, Consultant to the Cascade PD. Captain Banks asked me to meet your plane and bring you to the station."

The cold blue eyes moved over him once more, taking in the long hair and earrings. "You have identification?"

"Excuse me?" Blair's eyes widened.

"Identification," Hunter evenly repeated.

"Oh, yeah…sure." Blair slowly reached for his wallet. _'Okay. He has Jim's face and voice. But his attitude sucks.'_ As he reached his identification to the other man, he absently wondered if the DC cop was trying to decide if he worked in Vice or Narcotics. Making a mental bet with himself, he calmly waited.

Hunter studied the identification then silently returned it. "You on loan from Vice or Narcotics?" He produced his own identification. After Blair glanced at it, he put it back in his pocket.

"Actually, I mostly work with Major Crimes," Blair replied as he replaced his own identification. "Do you have any other luggage?" When Hunter shook his head, Blair started walking towards the door. "Captain Banks is anxious to start the briefing." As he led the way towards the parking garage, Blair refrained from grinning. _"Oh, man. The bullpen's gonna go crazy. And Jim, well he'll go nuts. Wonder if this guy's related to Jim in some way? Wonder if he has any heightened senses?'_

Hunter silently followed Blair towards the parking area. _'He's older than I thought. With a face like that, he'll always look younger than he is. Probably real successful in going undercover. Nice innocent young face. Probably got both Vice and Narcotics wanting him full-time.'_

They remained silent as Blair carefully drove out of the parking garage. He relaxed slightly when they got on the highway. With a slight grin at Hunter, he explained. "Si…Captain Banks would kill me if I brought this car back with a scratch. The last time we picked somebody up at the airport, my partner was driving." Blair chuckled and shook his head. "He wrecked the car while chasing a perp."

Hunter barely glanced in his direction.

"Uh…you wouldn't be related to anyone in Cascade, would you?" Blair asked.

"What?"

Blair refrained from shivering at the cold voice. "You, uh…well, you **really** look like…somebody I know. In fact, I thought you **were** him when I saw you at the airport, you know? So I was just…wondering…" Glancing at the man next to him, Blair let his voice die.

"No."

"No?" Blair repeated in surprise.

Hunter looked out the side window. "No, I'm not related to anyone in Cascade. As far as I know, no one in my family ever made it further west than Pittsburgh."

 _'Oh, man, he's even got Jim's body language! That's the 'don't ask anymore stupid questions, Sandburg' silent warning.'_ Blair refrained from asking any further questions, stupid or otherwise. Naomi Sandburg hadn't raised her son to be a suicidal fool.

By the time Blair had driven them to the station, parked the car, and gotten them into the elevator he'd regained his sense of humor. Rocking slightly on his heels, he was aware of Hunter's brief glance of disapproval. Feeling more at ease now that he was well within range of quick assistance, he glanced at the taller man. "Ex-Army?" he guessed, taking note of the man's rigid stance.

Hunter managed to convey his irritation with another brief glance. "Marines," he coldly corrected.

"Ah." Blair rocked again on his heels. _'Oh, yeah. This is gonna be good.'_

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **TUESDAY 10:27 p.m. (Pacific time)**

"Anybody seen Ellison?" Simon Banks barked.

"He's down in forensics getting an update on the Averitt case," Joel answered. "He was hoping to include it before turning it over to Homicide."

Simon glanced at his watch. "Sandburg should be back with…" He glared at the door as the young man in question entered followed by his partner. "Sandburg! Where's Captain Hunter?"

Blair grinned…evilly. "Captain Simon Banks. This is Captain Vincent Hunter. Captain Hunter's from the DC Metro Police Department. Captain Hunter does not, I repeat… **does not** , have any relatives in Cascade." He tossed the car keys to Simon who barely managed to catch them. "And not a scratch on the car, by the way. I'm a much better driver than Jim, you know." He glanced around with another grin. "Where **is** my partner, anyway?"

"Forensics," Simon muttered, his eyes frozen on Hunter.

Hunter observed the suddenly silent room. "Captain Banks," he curtly greeted.

"Welcome to Cascade," Simon finally replied. He quickly shook the other man's hand. He dimly heard Joel in the background telling someone in Forensics to have Jim get up to Major Crimes 'right now'.

Hunter's eyes flickered to two men who approached then back at Simon.

"Detective Henri Brown. Detective Brian Rafe," Simon identified.

Both men studied Hunter for a few minutes. "We'll go ahead to Conference Room Three," Rafe finally said. "Make sure everything's ready."

"Yeah," Henri nodded. He reached out and grabbed Blair by the arm. "C'mon, Hairboy. You can help."

"Me?" Blair innocently asked. But he didn't fight the two men who almost dragged him out of the room.

"You can put your luggage in my office," Simon offered, opening the door. "I must apologize. But you…"

"Sandburg said I strongly resembled someone," Hunter interrupted as he neatly sat both suitcases in the corner. "From the reactions I've been getting, I assume that someone is one of your men."

"Detective Jim Ellison. Sandburg's partner." Simon shook his head. "You two could be twins." He took a deep breath. "Let's get down to the conference room and get this briefing underway."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"C'mon, Hairboy! Give!"

"Hey, guys, you know what I know," Blair laughingly protested as he raised his hands.

"I know he's a cold SOB. You could tell that right off," Henri frowned. "Sorta like Ellison when he first transferred from Vice."

Rafe shuddered. "I'm not sure I like the thought of two of them, you know?"

Blair leaned back in his chair. "They're not exactly alike. I mean, he looks like Jim and the voice sounds the same. But he's…he doesn't walk or stand like Jim."

Rafe idly tapped the folder in front of him. "Says here he was in Homicide then transferred to IA."

"Great," Henri grunted. "Sounds like a lovely man."

"Don't be so judgmental," Blair cheerfully scolded. "He was the lead officer on that DC bombing. It's probably something personal with him, you know?"

"Incoming," Henri quietly warned as he looked over Blair's shoulder and out the open doorway.

"Ellison's on his way," Simon explained as they took their seats. "Conner's right behind us." He saw the looks exchanged and inwardly cursed. _'Should've had Joel warn her.'_

As soon as the Australian detective, accompanied by Joel, entered the room, Simon introduced her. "Inspector Megan Conner, Captain Joel Taggart, this is Detective Vincent Hunter from the DC Metro Police Department."

Hunter, immersed in reading the file on the table in front of him, glanced up and nodded.

"You're kidding, right?" Conner looked at the others in confusion. At Simon's glare, she took a seat between Blair and Henri while Joel sat between Rafe and Hunter.

"I think I'll get some tea before we get started," Blair got to his feet.

"Bring back something to eat and drink for everyone." Hunter's irritation at the continual looks and whispers had settled into a cold ball in the pit of his stomach. "I don't want any interruptions once we start." Suddenly realizing the tense attitudes in the room, he blandly looked up.

"Why don't I show you were the break room is," Megan offered. Her eyes glittered dangerously. "Since you're going to be around for a while, you should know where it is."

"Please, Megan. Let us show him," Rafe carefully enunciated.

"It'll be our pleasure," Henri grimly added.

Joel simply stared at the visiting cop, all softness gone from his dark eyes.

Hunter sat back in his chair, his eyes moving from one to the other without giving anything away.

"Hey, no problem," Blair smiled. "He's right. We shouldn't have any interruptions, you know? So, anybody got to make a trip to the little detectives' room…now's your chance." He grabbed a nearby notebook and pencil. "Now, what can I get for everyone?" He looked at the others, every inch the earnest waiter.

"Coffee, Sandburg," Simon gently smiled. "From my office," he quickly added.

"Diet Pepsi," Henri grudgingly added.

"Water for me, Sandy," Megan smiled.

"Same for me, Blair," Joel nodded. "Please."

"Coffee." Rafe glared at their visitor. "Double sugar."

"Aw, man, that stuff's gonna kill you," Blair warned. "What about you, Captain Hunter?"

Hunter stared at the younger man for a moment. "Coffee. Black." He carefully returned Rafe's glare. "No sugar."

"Bring something for Ellison," Simon sighed. "You know what he likes."

"Oh, he'll drink whatever I bring and like it," Blair muttered as he left the room.

Hunter stared from one detective to the other until he finally met Simon's angry eyes. "I seem to have stepped on a few toes."

Simon nodded. "Sandburg is a valued member of this department and Major Crimes in particular. He's **earned** his position here, and his assistance is vital. In fact, I hope to convince him to take the behavioral science training offered by the FBI. And while he's willing to overlook a certain amount of…attitude, shall we say…I'm not. Am I clear, Captain Hunter?"

"Perfectly clear, Captain Banks," Hunter nodded. He made a mental note to contact DC Metro and have Sandburg and the others checked out. Parish had come to Cascade for a reason. And he didn't trust anyone anymore.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Hey, Chief, think you could carry something else?"

Blair managed to turn without dropping anything. He had a bottle of water bulging from his shirt pocket, a second bottle of water tucked between his arm and ribs, a third bottle of water stuck in his right jeans pocket, and a can of Diet Pepsi stuck in the left. In his hands, he balanced three mugs of coffee and one mug of tea. "Jim?" he asked even though he recognized his friend's casual clothing.

Jim eyed this partner. "Is that a bottle of water in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?" he smirked.

"Ha, ha. Take something, will ya?" Blair grunted.

Jim grinned and reached for the bottle of water in Blair's shirt pocket.

"I mean some of these mugs," Blair snapped.

Jim put the bottle of water held against his friend's body into his shirt pocket then gingerly took two of the cups. "Whose?" he asked.

"The one in your left is Simon's. You should be able to tell that from the smell," Blair explained. "The other is Rafe's."

Jim sniffed. "Double sugar. Rafe having a bad evening?"

Blair grunted. "You aren't gonna believe the guy from DC, Jim."

Ellison frowned as he fell into step with his partner. "Why?"

"Jim…are any of your relatives from the DC area?" Blair asked.

"Not that I know of, Chief. Why?" Jim asked.

Blair smirked. "You'll see."

Jim shook his head as he followed his partner into the conference room. He noticed a man in a suit sitting next to Simon, his head bent forward as he studied the file in front of him. He quickly noted everyone's attention focused first on him, then the visitor, then back to him. He also noted Simon's sigh and the way the man rubbed the bridge of his nose even as he nodded in appreciation of the coffee.

"Here, Rafe." Jim leaned forward to sit the mug in front of the younger detective as Blair distributed the rest of the drinks.

"Captain Vincent Hunter. Detective Jim Ellison." Simon's voice was weary and edgy at the same time.

Jim caught his breath as he saw his own eyes staring at him.

Hunter automatically got to his feet. _'Damn. They weren't kidding. I thought it was some sort of superficial resemblance but…'_ He noted how Ellison turned to Sandburg as though waiting for an explanation. The younger man expressively shrugged his shoulders and took the bottle of water from Ellison's hand.

"Now that we've established the two of you could have been separated at birth, shall we begin?" Simon sarcastically asked.

Blair reached out and shut the conference room door. Megan automatically changed seats with Blair so he would be sitting next to his partner. Everyone held their breath as both Hunter and Ellison took their seats.

"Captain Hunter, why don't you begin?" Simon suggested.

Hunter took a deep even breath to steady his voice. "Robert Parish is a bigoted son-of-a-bitch. He believes he's on a mission from God."

"But he doesn't claim to actually hear God's voice?" Blair surmised as he scribbled on the notebook in front of him.

Surprised the younger man had made that distinction, Hunter began to revise his opinion of Sandburg. "No. He believes it's his mission to exterminate inferior races. Until he accomplishes that, he won't hear God's voice." He motioned towards the folders in front of everyone. "We have him confirmed as the bomber behind the bombing of the Booker T. Washington Children's Center in DC."

Blair's eyes briefly closed at the pictures of the carnage.

"Nineteen children…none older than seven died in that explosion. The youngest was three weeks old." For once Hunter's cold clipped voice offended no one.

Joel ignored the pictures and focused on the reports. "According to this, the bombs were planted within the walls." He glanced at the man next to him. "C4 and timers?"

Hunter nodded. "The center had been doing some remodeling using volunteer labor so they didn't have any work records. They accepted assistance from anyone who showed up."

"And they probably didn't have any night security," Rafe mused.

"Open work site," Henri nodded. "It wouldn't have been hard to plant the bombs."

Blair looked up from the papers spread in front of him. "The work was done five weeks before the explosion. Parish set the timers that far in advance?"

"Back in the 80's, the IRA nearly wiped out the British cabinet," Jim recalled. "They knew the Prime Minister and most of the cabinet would be hosting a summit at a Brighton hotel in four months. They made reservations during the intervening time for various rooms within the hotel. They cut out part of the walls, planted the explosives, set the timers, and repaired the rooms. By the time British intelligence did a sweep of the place prior to the summit, the explosives had been planted for weeks."

Hunter nodded in grudging approval. "When the summit was canceled, the IRA called Scotland Yard and told them about the bombs." He paused. "To prevent the loss of innocent life as they put it."

Megan snorted which earned a grin from both Rafe and Henri.

"Parish works alone?" Joel asked with a frown.

"He'll work with anyone who hates as deeply as he does," Hunter explained. "Or he'll work alone." He tapped the folder in front of him. "Besides a couple of fingerprints, we have him confirmed as the bomber because one of his accomplices rolled over on him. Seems he didn't like the idea of children dying."

"They planted a bomb in a children's center!" Henri burst out. "Who did he think would die?"

Hunter shrugged. "He claimed Parish told him the bomb would be detonated in the middle of the night."

This time Rafe snorted earning a grin from Megan and Henri.

"He's also a suspect in the bombing of a mosque in Philadelphia which resulted in the deaths of two men, the bombing of an Asian-American Cultural Center in Detroit which resulted in the deaths of three women and six teenagers, and the bombing of a Buddhist temple in Los Angeles resulting in the deaths of seven monks." Hunter's ice blue eyes met those of the others in the room. "Theoretically, he's responsible for the deaths of nine men, three women, six teenagers, and nineteen babies and children."

"Son of a bitch," Megan angrily muttered.

Blair noticed Jim's angry, tense posture. He reached out and nudged the bottle of water towards his partner's hand. The Sentinel grabbed the bottle and angrily twisted the cap. He glared at it, darkly wishing it was Parish's neck. Reaching under the table, Blair carefully touched Jim's knee. He felt his partner relax and began to relax himself.

Hunter watched the by-play between the two partners without a change of expression.

Simon irritably looked through his folder. "There's nothing here about the other bombings."

Hunter leaned back in his chair. "We received that information from the Department of Justice just before I left. Commissioner Mannion demanded it." When Simon glared at him, he shrugged. "The Feds aren't any more forthcoming to the DC Police than to anyone else."

This time Simon snorted earning a chuckle from Blair and a grunt from Jim.

"Jim." Simon nodded in his direction.

Jim carefully closed the folder. "I got a call from one of my best snitches early this morning. He was pretty spooked because he'd always met me in public before, mostly in diners. This time, he wanted to meet on the top floor of a downtown parking garage."

Simon sat back, watching the two men. He noticed the others were also closely watching. But Blair's expression reminded him of the way the young man used to look…open and eager. The way he looked before everything went to hell in an express-lane handbasket.

Jim's eyes met Hunter's. He was conscious of Blair's elevated pulse and the comforting touch on his knee. "He was pretty well spooked. He said some of the remnants of the Sunrise Patriots had brought in some psycho to blow up a building."

"Who are the Sunrise Patriots?" Hunter quietly asked.

"Garret Kincaid's group. Smooth. Intelligent. Ruthless. Just the sort of man who'd appeal to Parish. We've had a couple of run-ins with him." Ellison didn't break the stare until Blair squeezed his knee with more strength that the Sentinel believed the younger man possessed. He wound up giving Blair a startled look.

Blair said nothing but silently sipped his tea.

Megan noted Blair using his left hand to hold his mug and wondered just what the young man had squeezed under the table to get Jim's attention so quickly. The thought caused her to choke on her water. She silently waved in apology as she coughed.

"Some years ago, Kincaid faked an emergency call about a plane crash outside Cascade," Simon explained. "With most of the officers away from the building, he took it over. Our last run-in was a couple of years ago when he and his people assaulted the Cascade Civic Arena during a sporting event." He coldly smiled. "Needless to say, we're quite familiar with each other."

"Where is Kincaid now?" Hunter demanded.

"Starkville Prison. It's a couple of hours' away from Cascade," Simon explained. "I've spoken to the warden. We'll have access to Kincaid if necessary."

Hunter frowned. "Does Kincaid have a personal grudge against any of your people?" He glanced at Blair who was squirming.

"Just an assault with a men's room door," Henri offered.

Blair glared at his friend.

"Not to mention assault with a vending machine," Rafe added with a snicker.

Blair sank lower in his chair.

"Not to mention threatening with a flair gun and claiming to fly Apaches during Desert Storm," Jim teased with a fond smile.

Blair covered his face with both hands. "Jeez, it was my first day here," he muttered. "Cut a guy some slack, will ya?"

Hunter's eyes flickered from Sandburg to Ellison then back to Sandburg.

More relaxed, Jim sipped his water and gently nudged his partner who obediently dropped his hands.

"Parish was slightly injured during the bank robbery attempt," Simon continued. "He's back from the hospital and being booked now. Ellison, you'll handle the questioning. Captain Hunter, you're more than welcome to observe. Then I'll take you to your hotel room. I'm sure you'd like a chance to rest. You've had a long trip."

Hunter nodded. "I'll leave this with you, Captain. You can see copies are made for your people." He held out the folder containing the information on the Philadelphia, Detroit, and Los Angeles bombings. "I've arranged for a rental car as of tomorrow morning. I don't want to put any of your people out chauffeuring me around."

Simon nodded and took the folder. "Let's get the copies made now. Jim, Parish will be in Interrogation Room Five." He stood and motioned for Hunter join him.

"Ex-Army," Henri muttered as he watched Hunter walk away.

Jim shook his head. "Ex-Marine. They walk differently."

"Yes!" Blair pumped his fist in the air. "I **knew** you'd spot that!"

"You did, huh?" Jim grinned. "Come on, Kreskin. Let's see what we can get from Parish."

Joel waited until the two had walked away from the room before closing the door. He turned to the others. "I think we need to discuss Captain Hunter."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

TUESDAY 11:44 pm (Pacific time)

Robert Parish silently cradled his injured right hand close to his chest.

Jim silently dropped the photographs from the DC bombing onto the table and spread them out. "Look familiar?"

Parish glanced at the photos then up at Jim. "The Lord's will be done."

"The Lord had nothing to do with this," Jim coldly denied. "And He had nothing to do with those bombings in Philadelphia, Detroit, or LA."

"The unrighteous must be purged before they destroy the righteous," Parish quietly spoke.

Jim angrily pointed at one of the pictures. "There were babies who died in this explosion, Parish. Just why did you consider them unrighteous."

"The mark of Cain was upon them," Parish answered. "The Lord had marked them. It is not for man to dispute the will of God."

Jim stared at Parish for a few moments then gathered up the pictures. He nodded at the uniformed officer standing to one side. "Take him back to his cell. Solitary confinement under the heaviest possible security."

Parish looked up at Jim. "You can't defeat God or his Chosen Elite."

Ignoring the man, Jim left the interrogation room and walked into the adjoining observation room. "He's not going to talk, sir. Unlike Kincaid, he truly believes what he's saying."

Blair silently took the photographs and looked at them. "Mark of Cain," he muttered. "All of these kids were African Americans." He looked at Jim in sudden understanding. "He thinks that African Americans have the mark of Cain?! That's….that's…."

"Nothing new," Simon wearily interrupted. He absently patted Blair's shoulder. "Let it go, Sandburg."

"That's why he chose me as a hostage," Blair slowly nodded in understanding. "He took our ID's and then singled me out." His hand shook slightly as he handed the photographs back to Jim. "Because of my **name**."

Simon looked at Hunter who had stood silently watching Parish being led away. "Captain Hunter? Did you want to interrogate Parish?"

"Any questions about the DC bombing will wait until I get him back there," Hunter quietly replied. _'And the last thing I want now is to listen to is Parish saying those babies deserved to die.'_ He turned to face Simon. "If there's nothing else, Captain Banks, I'd appreciate a ride to my hotel."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **WEDNESDAY 12:32 am (Pacific time)**

Hunter barely looked at the hotel room. Beyond acknowledging the standard furniture, he sat on the bed pleasantly surprised at the firmness of the mattress. Plugging in his laptop, he accessed the District database. Checking on the reports of an ongoing investigation, he briefly smiled.

'It's my opinion that while no proof exists to confirm the allegations made against Officer Felicia Adams further investigation is warranted. Signed – Lt. Max Reynolds'

"Did you think I didn't know that she's turned you down several times for a date?" Hunter mused. "You should have told me that, Reynolds, and passed this investigation to someone else." He quickly typed 'hold for my review' on the comments tab and saved the file.

Settling into his chair, Hunter accessed another database and typed in the name 'Blair Sandburg'.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **WEDNESDAY 12:22 am (Pacific time)**

"He's not a Sentinel, you know."

Jim glanced at his partner as the elevator at 852 Prospect rose to the third floor. "Was I asking?"

"Just thought you'd like to know."

"He's just your regulation hard-ass, huh?" Jim commented.

Blair's eyes twinkled but he managed not to laugh as the elevator doors opened. "I'm sure he's **very** regulation."

"Sorta brings back memories of the good old days," Jim hinted.

Blair seriously nodded. "I fully expected to get tossed against the wall at the airport and be called a neo-hippie witchdoctor punk."

Jim glared at him as they reached the apartment door. "You're never going to let me live that one down, are you?" He wondered if Hunter had given his partner a hard time.

"Nope," Blair cheerfully answered as he unlocked the front door. "Man, it was weird, though. Seeing somebody that looks **just** like you."

Jim shrugged. "Didn't somebody say we all have a double somewhere in this world?" He gave an exaggerated shudder as he closed the door behind them. "Another Blair Sandburg. Now **that** would be weird."

"Ha-ha. Don't give up your day job, man," Blair snorted.

"He give you a hard time, Sandburg?" Jim suddenly demanded. He saw Blair's shoulders momentarily tense.

"No more than to be expected," Blair shrugged as he turned around. "You know. Did I work in Vice or Narcotics? Demanded to see my identification."

"What?!" Jim exclaimed.

Blair grinned. "You know. The old 'you-show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine'. No big deal."

Jim rolled his eyes. "I'm serious, Chief."

"So am I," Blair assured him. "C'mon, Jim. He's just an inflexible as you used to be." The younger man grinned. "Remember? You wanted to toss my office for controlled substances."

Jim glared at his partner again. "You're never going to let me live **that** down either, are you?"

"Nope," Blair cheerfully repeated as he walked towards the bathroom.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **WEDNESDAY 8:10 a.m. (Pacific time)**

Simon heard his name called as he got off the elevator. For a moment, he thought it was Jim until he noticed the coat and tie. "Captain Hunter," he greeted.

"I wonder if I might have a moment of your time, Captain Banks," Hunter evenly spoke. "I need to ask you a few questions."

Simon hesitated, then motioned towards his office. He was aware of the looks from his detectives. It was the anger in Joel's eyes that bothered him. Not much got Joel upset. Then he noticed Jim and Blair's absence. "Anybody heard from Ellison and Sandburg?"

"They're on their way," Rafe answered. "Blair said something about going through a bank drive-through." He grinned when Henri chuckled.

Joel caught Simon's attention. "We've started putting together a list of potential targets."

Simon nodded then shut the office door behind him. "What can I do for you, Captain Hunter? I assure you, we'll have a briefing as soon as Ellison and Sandburg get here."

"Very good, sir, but this is a separate matter," Hunter curtly nodded.

Simon settled into his chair and motioned for Hunter to also sit. He wasn't surprised when the man shook his head in refusal. Although the two men shared familiar body motions, Jim's seemed to be more fluid while Hunter's was clipped and sharp. _'And while Jim will briefly look away to gather his thoughts before tackling something uncomfortable, this man catches your eyes and holds them. He enjoys taking people by surprise.'_

"I'm sure you know I'm here only because I was the lead officer on the Parish case," Hunter crisply began. "I'm no longer in Homicide."

"You're currently Captain of Internal Affairs," Simon casually nodded.

"I'm interested in knowing why the Cascade PD offered a position as Consultant to the Cascade PD and Major Crimes in particular to someone who confessed to being an academic fraud." Hunter met Simon's eyes without a flinch.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Blair yawned as he walked into Major Crimes.

"You know, Sandy, you really need to get to bed on time," Megan teased. "Those late nights can be hell on a man of your age, you know."

"Hey!" Blair protested with a grin. "You're as young as you feel and think. Chronology has nothing to do with it."

"Well, that explains…" Henri started to joke. "Jim?"

Blair looked over his shoulder to see Jim staring at Simon's office. Through the glass windows, they could see Simon angrily leaning across his desk towards Hunter who placidly stood across from him.

"Jim?" Blair touched his friend's arm.

Jim absently pulled away from his Guide and started towards Simon's office.

"Oh, Lord," Joel groaned.

Henri, Megan, and Rafe looked at each other will ill-concealed eager anticipation.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear yesterday, Captain Hunter," Simon hissed as he slowly got to his feet. "Blair Sandburg is a valued member of my department as well as being a personal friend." He angrily leaned across the desk. "He's more than proven himself for well over the years."

"And this has what to do with his admitted fraud?" Hunter quietly asked.

"His 'admitted fraud' as you put it has nothing to do with this department and his work here! In fact, if you had done a decent job of checking him out, you would have discovered the truth about that mess!" Simon bellowed.

Hunter barely nodded. "I researched the press conference his attorney held. It was a good explanation." His cold blue eyes stared into Simon's angry brown eyes. "Assuming, of course that I would believe anything a lawyer would say."

Simon's eyes narrowed. "Let me repeat this for the last time, Captain Hunter. Sandburg is a valued member of this department. And I will **not** have that **crap** brought up again! Do I make myself clear? Sandburg's been the best partner Ellison's ever had."

Hunter tilted his head to one side in a familiar gesture. "Partners can betray one another, Captain Banks. Perhaps you should keep that in mind," he quietly answered. "Thank you for your time."

Hunter made it halfway out the door when he was grabbed by one very pissed-off Sentinel and shoved against the nearby wall.

 **"Ellison!"** Simon bellowed as he headed for the door.

 **"Jim!"** Blair yelled from across the bullpen.

Jim had Hunter slammed against the wall with one forearm across DC officer's throat. Hunter's hands gripped Jim's forearm but made no other attempt to free himself. Cold blue eyes stared into fiery blue eyes.

"Let me set you straight, Hunter," Jim hissed. "You mess with Sandburg, and I'll send you back to DC in a box. You understand?"

"Is that a threat?" Hunter calmly asked.

"It's a damned promise," Jim angrily answered.

"Ellison! Let him go!" Simon angrily ordered. "Now!"

"Jim!" Blair grabbed his partner's arm when he didn't respond to Simon. "Man, let it go."

Jim shook his head, refusing to break his stare with Hunter.

"Ellison, that's an order!" Simon squeezed Jim's shoulder.

"Jim, please, man. It's not his fault. C'mon…" Blair gently urged.

"Not his fault?!" Jim glanced at his partner. "He…"

"He doesn't know everything," Blair calmly pointed out. "So he doesn't understand. So it's not his fault. See?"

Shaking his head slightly, Jim slowly released Hunter. Backing away from everyone, he headed towards the break room.

"Go after him, Sandburg," Simon gently ordered.

"Yeah," Blair sighed. He glanced at Hunter. "Sorry about that, Hunter."

Hunter stared at Blair in open surprise then smoothed his features. Straightening his tie, Hunter walked away.

Joel glanced at Simon. "He's going to be trouble," he quietly warned.

Simon followed Joel's glance towards the younger members of his squad. Rafe and Henri looked angry enough to shoot the DC cop. And he didn't want to think what was going through Megan's head. "Everyone in the briefing room in five minutes."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Blair watched as Jim angrily slammed his hand against the buttons on the vending machine. "You know, breaking the buttons will just ensure you don't get what you paid for," he pointed out as he closed the door.

"Damned self-righteous son-of-a…" Jim muttered as he grabbed the water bottle from the machine.

"Let it go, Jim," Blair quietly urged. He stared at his partner with concern. "It's to be expected."

Jim ran a hand through his short hair. "How can you keep doing that?" When Blair's eyes widened in confusion, he took a deep breath. "How can you keep forgiving people for believing you're a fraud?" He hesitated, then looked away before sitting at the table. "How can you keep forgiving me for what you had to do?"

"Jeez, Ellison. I thought we were past this." Blair sat across from his friend. Reaching out, he squeezed Jim's arm. "We **need** to be past this. We can't change what happened."

Jim leaned back and sighed. "I really thought I was past it, Chief. But then…something like this happens and…" He wearily shook his head and drank half the bottle of water.

"And you protect the Guide," Blair grinned. "I'm down with that, man, I really am. But you gotta quit blowing up when this stuff happens. It's not your fault if somebody believes what they're read or heard."

Jim nodded. "I still want to pound on him."

Blair shrugged. "I think the others would probably help."

"But you wouldn't?" Jim guessed.

"Me?" Blair innocently grinned. "I'm a lover, not a fighter. Remember?"

Jim snorted. "Right, Romeo. How could I have forgotten?"

The door to the break room opened, and Henri stuck his head into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, but the Captain's called for a briefing."

Jim nodded and tossed the half-empty bottle of water into the trash.

Henri walked across the room and retrieved the bottle.

"Henri, the machine has more bottles," Blair pointed out in confusion.

"Nah. A full bottle would do just a little too much damage." Henri tucked the bottle under his arm and walked towards the briefing room.

"Good point," Jim admitted as he followed.

"That will **not** help foster good interdepartmental cooperation," Blair warned.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Simon had to give Hunter credit. The DC cop entered the briefing room and took his seat, ignoring the angry stares from the Major Crimes detectives. As Henri, Jim, and Blair entered the room, he closed the door behind them. "I will say this only once. We have a potential bombing to stop. That is all we're concerned with. Anything else is irrelevant and unnecessary. Any unnecessary distractions **from anyone** will be dealt with most severely. Now is that understood?" He waited until everyone nodded then sat down. "What do have as far as potential targets are concerned?"

Megan handed out several sheets of paper. "We did a quick check and found a lot of possibilities."

"We considered the time frame," Rafe continued. "From the information provided, it looks like Parish will plan weeks in advance. However, if he's hooked up with Kincaid's group, it's likely they want a more immediate target."

"Yeah, Kincaid's not the most patient of people," Jim admitted.

"What do we have?" Simon quietly asked.

"The Cascade Museum of Art is showing three different displays of art and sculpture from around the world," Megan consulted her notes. 'The Cascade Professional Theater is having several performances this week of plays from different countries. The City Economic Development Commission has been hosting several luncheons for potential developers of the new Industrial Park. There's one scheduled for tomorrow and two for next week. From what we could learn, some of the potential investors are from outside the country."

"There's also the opening of the Cascade Asian Culture Center today." Henri threw Blair an apologetic look. "And Rainier's Anthropology Department is opening an exhibit next Saturday on Native American Tribes of the Pacific Northwest at the University museum."

Simon removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "All desirable targets."

"We know Kincaid likes big targets," Jim slowly spoke. "The bigger the better. He likes to make a big impact. So we could theoretically eliminate some of the smaller functions like the theater group."

"And since Parish hired out for this job rather than pick it himself, it's likely he was told what the target was going to be," Hunter added with a glance at Jim. "If Kincaid's pulling the strings, how likely is it he would make the targets personal?"

Jim leaned back in his chair and glanced at Blair. "It's possible," he admitted.

"Given Blair's past association, that would make Rainier the most obvious target," Joel nodded.

"And the Cascade Asian Cultural Center," Jim added. "My brother's been active in supporting it."

"And the opening's today," Joel recalled.

"Concentrate on that," Simon ordered. "Joel, contact the Bomb Squad. Coordinate our efforts with them." He looked at Megan. "What time is the opening?"

The Australian detective glanced at her notes. "At ten this morning."

"Get over there," Simon ordered. "I'll arrange for some uniformed officers as back up." He glanced at both Jim and Joel. "Go over that building with a fine toothed comb. Requisition whatever equipment you need and use everything you have."

Jim nodded as he got to his feet. "Yes, sir."

"There's no way we can sweep that building without delaying the opening," Joel pointed out.

Simon nodded. "I'll call the Mayor right now."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **WEDNESDAY 8:38 a.m. (Pacific time)**

Steven Ellison wryly smiled as he noticed how the protestors positioned themselves to easily be seen by the media. Even though they were protected within the limousine, he felt the elderly woman next to him begin to shake in response to the muffled shouting. "Mrs. Wu? Are you okay?"

"They frighten me," Dorothy Wu admitted. She smiled when Steven put a protective arm around her shoulders.

"We can go in the back way," he offered.

Slowly the elderly woman stiffened her shoulders. "No. We have done nothing wrong."

Steven smiled and reached for the doorknob.

The protestors began moving towards the limousine only to find the walkway from the street to the building suddenly lined by counter-protestors. A red-haired woman smiled over her shoulder. "You don't mind, do you?"

"What?" Donald Brooks stared down at the woman in surprise. "Lady, get outta my way."

"I'm sorry, I can't do that," the woman apologized with another smile. "I'm afraid you'll just have to stand behind us."

Brooks sputtered with indignation as the door to the limousine opened.

Steven stepped out and quickly surveyed the scene. He was surprised to find a row of people, holding signs of support for the Center, lining the sidewalk to the building. _'It's a nice gesture, but if some of those bozos want to get at us, those people are just going to wind up being just so much road kill.'_

Turning, Steven offered his arm to the small woman who emerged from the limousine. "May I have the pleasure?" he smiled.

With a slight bow of her head, Dorothy took Steven's arm and they walked towards the Center's doors.

Steven heard both the yells of derision and yells of support. However, he kept his eyes on a large man standing behind a red-haired woman. _'There's the ringleader.'_

Suddenly the crowd surged forward, the Center's supporters unable to withstand the pushing from behind them. Instinctively, Steven moved back, pulling Dorothy with him. The elderly woman, however, stumbled and put out one arm to steady herself.

"Get your filthy hands off me, you rotten Gook!"

The entire crowd quieted in response to the angry words.

"I apologize," Dorothy quietly spoke. "I did not mean…"

Steven stepped in front of Dorothy and stared at Brooks. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Steven, no." Dorothy put a hand on his back.

Steven ignored both the plea and the media cameras that were coming closer. "This idiocy you're yelling just shows how stupid you really are! Anybody with a quarter of a brain know what you're saying just isn't right!" He took a deep breath. "It's just not right."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

NOVEMBER 1973

"It's just not right!"

"Steven…"

"And I'll do it again! I will, Dad! I swear I will!"

William Ellison sighed and studied his indignant eleven-year old son. "Steven…"

"He called Sally a filthy Gook! I don't know what it means but I know it's not good!" Stevie looked up at his father. "He made Sally cry. She didn't think I saw but I did. Nobody does that!"

"Steven! Enough!" William ran a hand through his hair. He was used to his elder son's displays of temper, but this was the first time that Stevie had been involved in any sort of altercation. "I can understand your anger. And, no, calling someone names is not right. But neither is fighting."

"He wouldn't stop when I told him to," Stevie sullenly explained. "If he'd stopped, I wouldn't've hit him."

"You hit Freddy several times," William pointed out.

"He wouldn't stop sayin' stuff," Stevie pointed out.

William slowly counted to ten. _'Disciplining Jimmy is much easier.'_ He put his hand on his younger son's shoulders. "You do not fight in the street like some common street thug, do you hear me? If something like this happens again, you come and tell me. Then I'll take care of it."

Stevie's eyes widened. "Dad…"

"Enough, Steven! Your motives were laudable." He saw the confusion in his son's eyes. "Your heart was in the right place. But no more fighting. Now go get cleaned up. You'll have dinner in your room."

"Yes, sir." Stevie turned and walked away. _'Run and tell Dad? Like that'll accomplish anything. They'll call me a tattletale. Next time I'll tell Jimmy. He'll take care of Freddy and his big mouth!'_

William sighed again and walked down the hallway. He was surprised to see his elder son standing at the top of the steps.

"Stevie just did what he thought was right."

"I know, Jimmy. But he can't go around hitting people." William held up a hand when Jim started to reply. "No matter how appropriate it might seem at the time. There are better ways of handling this."

"You'll handle it?" Jimmy asked.

"I'll handle it," William promised.

After a few seconds, Jimmy nodded and walked down the stairs. _'And if Dad doesn't get the job done, I will.'_ He walked into the kitchen to see their housekeeper, Sally Choi, fixing a tray of snacks. "Want me to take it up to Stevie?"

Sally sadly smiled. "Thank you, Jimmy, but I will do it. You need to hurry or you'll be late for practice."

Jimmy impulsively leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Sally patted him on the arm. "You've done nothing wrong. You're a good boy. Both you and Stevie are good boys."

Jimmy flashed her a quick smile and ran out the back door. He walked his bike out of the garage then stopped. Looking up at the side of the house, he closed his eyes and concentrated hard.

"Yes, Jeff, that's right. I don't think that Sam Hardesty is the type of person we need in the Club. We certainly don't need his attitude or opinions being reported in the business section of the paper, do we?"

Jimmy rubbed his temples as his father's voice faded out. He knew he was going to have a pounding headache in just a few minutes. 'Well, you do things your way, Dad. But I think Stevie's way is better.'

A few minutes later, Stevie heard someone enter his room. He lay curled on the bed, cradling a sore left hand against his thin chest. A blanket was gently tucked around him and a soft kiss placed on his temple.

"Thank you, Stevie."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **WEDNESDAY 8:41 a.m. (Pacific time)**

"No, it's just not right," Steven slowly repeated.

"Think I'm gonna let some Chink lover tell me what's right?" Brooks furiously shouted.

Steven saw the crowd of supporters try to reposition themselves, but the press of the protesters behind them was too great. He quickly shoved Dorothy towards the safety of the building as the protesters surged forward. As he ducked a wild swing from Brooks, he heard sirens in the distance.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **WEDNESDAY 1:29 pm (Pacific time)**

"I can't believe they just stuck us all in here."

Steven sighed. He'd heard that same complaint repeated for the last couple of hours.

"I'm sure they'll get it all sorted out. Just remember. We all get bailed out or none of us do. It's a matter of principle."

Steven looked over his shoulder at the adjoining cell. They'd been segregated according to sex which had upset some of the counter-protesters. 'At least they kept us apart from those bozos who started this whole mess.'

Standing, he walked over to where the women had congregated. "I'm sure bail won't be set very high. After all, the cameras were rolling; and it'll clearly show we weren't at fault."

A red-haired woman turned and smiled at him. "Oh, I'm not worried about that. Actually, this is a little embarrassing."

Steven folded his arms and leaned against the bars. "Really? Never been arrested before?"

The woman and her friends began laughing. "Oh, believe me, this isn't my first time being arrested during a demonstration. It's just that I'm in town to see my son and…well, he works for the police department."

Steven's eyes twinkled. "We have something in common. My older brother's a cop. My name's Steven Ellison."

"Ellison? Are you related to Jim Ellison? My name is Naomi Sandburg."

Steven's eyes widened. "I'm Jim's brother. You're…"

"Blair's mother."

"Oh my God."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Joel and the bomb squad found the bomb," Simon announced to the bullpen. "It was next to the heating unit in the basement. Since the building was using natural gas…"

"It would've been a fireball," Jim grimly nodded.

Simon perched on the edge of Jim's desk. "According to Joel, the bomb would've gone off at 9:30 a.m. It would've leveled the building taking out the protesters as well."

"Jeez," Blair sighed. "That couldn't have been part of Kincaid's plan."

"Probably not," Simon agreed with a smile. "But that should make the protesters more likely to cooperate." He chuckled. "I guess it was close to a full-fledged riot down there?"

"Pretty close," Jim admitted. "It took a while for the uniforms to get them separated. Since we didn't know if there was a bomb or when it would go off, Command just loaded everybody up and brought them here in to sort it out."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"So you're Blair's mother."

"And you're Jim's brother."

Naomi's friends had drifted away to allow them privacy to speak.

"I guess Blair doesn't know you're in town," Steven guessed.

Naomi glanced away. "No. I just decided to drop in…to see how he's doing. When my friends told me about the planned counter-protest, I decided to join them. I needed some good Karma."

"Don't we all," Steven muttered. He glanced over his shoulder into the busy hallway. "Jim? Hey! Jim!"

Hunter glanced into the room with the large holding cells. With the sudden influx of people into the holding area, he'd gone down to make sure that Parish was moved to a more secure location. He looked at the man who was staring at him then turned around and walked away. A small smile danced across his lips.

"Jim!" Steven stared at the open door in exasperation. "I don't believe this!"

"Hey! Calm down over there!"

Steven looked at the uniformed officers at the nearby desks. "That was my brother!"

"Who?" The officer looked at the empty doorway.

"Jim Ellison."

The two officers looked at each other. "Jim Ellison's your brother?"

"Yeah." Steven glanced at Naomi. "And she's Blair Sandburg's mother."

Naomi smiled and waved her fingers in their direction.

One of the officers flipped through papers on a clipboard then reached for the phone.

"I can't believe Jim just walked away like that," Steven grumbled.

"That wasn't Jim," Naomi confided.

"Excuse me?"

"His aura was all wrong for Jim," Naomi explained.

"Oh."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Man, I'm glad all this went down before the opening," Blair muttered as he sorted papers on Jim's desk. "I would've hated for Steven to have been caught up in all that mess."

Jim grunted in agreement.

"Ellison! Sandburg!"

Both men looked up at Simon's bellow.

"Get down to the main holding cells." Simon suddenly smiled. "It seems you have relatives to bail out."

"Relatives? Steven?"

"Relatives? **MOM**?"

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Hang down your head, Tom Dooley. Hang down your head and cry. Hang down your head, Tom Dooley. Poor boy, you're bound to die."

It was all Steven could do to not double over and laugh. Naomi and her friends had started to sing, and someone had felt their current incarceration deserved a rousing version of Tom Dooley. The uniformed officers watching over them looked like they wanted to be anywhere but where they were.

"Mom?"

"Sweetie!"

"What are you doing in here?" Blair anxiously rushed forward.

"We couldn't just let those ignorant Neanderthals go unopposed!" Naomi explained. "I took the opportunity to stop here in Cascade to see you. I'm on my way to Taos and thought we could have a quick visit. I haven't talked to you since…well, since before. But when Steffie mentioned they were going to counter-protest…well…I had to join them. You understand, don't you? Oh, hi, Jim." She turned to Steven. "You see, this is Jim. He has a much more positive aura around him."

"Oh, yeah, this is Jim. Positive aura and all," Steven agreed.

"What?" Jim looked at his brother in confusion.

"You've got a twin walking around here," Steven explained.

"Oh. Him."

Steven's eyebrows rose.

"But Sweetie, we've all agreed. We all stay in jail or all get bailed out."

"But, Mom…"

"Bail's on me," Steven offered. "Assuming we ever get to that point."

"There won't be any bail," Jim explained. "I checked before we came down here. There's clear proof you people were attacked. The paperwork's being processed for your release although the police department would appreciate your cooperation in giving your statements as to what happened."

"That's wonderful! I'll be able to catch my plane this evening!" Naomi looked at Jim. "I will, won't I?"

"Sure, you can," Blair quickly answered. "So…Mom. How long will you be in Taos?"

Naomi walked to the other side of the holding cell for privacy, smiling as Blair walked with her. "Jim's not going to be upset with his brother, is he? After all, Steven was just doing what's right."

"I'm sure he's not," Blair assured her.

"Sweetie, you seem so…settled."

Blair smiled. "That's not necessarily a bad thing, Naomi."

"So you're happy still working with the cops?" Naomi studied her son closely.

"I am," Blair quietly answered. "I've got the brass ring. It's just not the one I thought I wanted."

"I hear you, Sweetie." Naomi reached through the bars and squeezed her son's arm.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **WEDNESDAY 7:30pm (Pacific time)**

"Hey, Jim, there's Hunter."

Jim winced as the airport loudspeaker announced the arrival of Flight 727 from Salt Lake City. He looked over his shoulder where the DC cop stood talking with two uniformed US Marshals. "Yeah, Simon said they were taking Parish out of here tonight."

Naomi peered around Jim. "That's the man Steven saw. I told him it wasn't you."

"How did you know?" Blair curiously asked.

"His aura. Completely wrong for Jim."

Jim leaned down and kissed Naomi on the cheek. "Thank you, Naomi. That's the nicest thing I've heard about me in a long time."

Naomi laughed and kissed him on the lips. "Oh, Jim. You're such a kidder."

"Yeah. A kidder." Blair forced a laugh then glared at Jim. "That's my mom!" he silently mouthed.

"I'll be in the truck, Chief," Jim grinned. "Naomi, have a safe trip."

"Bye, Jim." Naomi watched as Jim walked towards the uniformed officers. "Sweetie, anyone can see there's only a superficial resemblance."

"Uh-huh. You never told me, Naomi. What's in Taos?"

"Oh, it's a wonderful opportunity, Blair. You remember Moonglow and Teardrop? Well, they've taken their original names of Debra and Sherri back and formed this absolutely incredible group…"

Jim silently shook his head. Trust Naomi to make a flying trip to see Blair and not include enough time for them to sit down and work through everything that had happened.

"Ellison." Hunter nodded over his shoulders at the US Marshals who looked from one man to another. After another look from Hunter, they walked away.

"Got Parish ready to go?" Jim asked.

Hunter nodded. "He's in a secure holding facility here at the airport. As soon as the chartered plane's fueled, we're taking off." He glanced past Jim to see Blair and Naomi animatedly talking with each other. "I heard a rumor that Sandburg might be coming to my little playground."

Jim studied the other man. "Don't miss your flight," he warned before walking away.

Hunter chuckled to himself as he walked away in the opposite direction. Showing his identification, he descended into the bowels of the airport terminal. When he reached a cell, he smiled at the man behind the bars. "Not too much longer, Parish."

Robert Parish angrily looked through the bars at the cop. "You can't stop the Lord's will."

Hunter smirked then settled down in a chair. Opening a briefcase, he brought out a thick file folder.

One of the Marshals glanced at him. "A little light reading?" he joked.

"Just something to keep me occupied during the flight," Hunter answered. Opening the file, he began to read about the lives of Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **SATURDAY 7:14 p.m. (Pacific time)**

"Sandburg, settle down."

"Okay, okay, I know. I'm just jittery, man." Blair nervously rearranged the stack of notebooks lying on the coffee table in the living room. "Maybe I should…"

"Sandburg!"

Startled, Blair jumped and looked at his friend.

"Enough. You don't want to overwhelm them with too much stuff," Jim warned. "Just give them the highlights and then answer whatever questions they have."

"Right. Right. Keep it simple." Blair ran a hand through his curly hair. "Jim, are you sure?"

"You're going to Quantico, aren't you?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, I told you and Simon that yesterday," Blair nodded.

"Then we need to let these guys know about me," Jim quietly stated. "I'm sure, Chief. It's time."

Both men jerked at the loud knocking on the door.

"Showtime, Chief," Jim grinned. He chuckled when Blair softly groaned. He opened the door. "Come on in. Head into the living room and find a seat."

"Anything to drink?" Megan asked.

"After the demonstration," Jim promised.

"Yeah, you'll probably need it," Blair muttered under his breath.

"Jim, are you sure about this?" Simon quietly asked.

"Yes, sir. Like I told Sandburg, it's time."

Blair waiting for everyone to be seated. "As you know, I'll be heading to Quantico soon for behavioral science training at the FBI Academy."

"Way to go, Hairboy," Henri cheered.

Blair nearly blushed. "Thanks, but this isn't about that. Well, it is. Sorta. Kinda. You see…"

"I'm a Sentinel," Jim quietly spoke from behind them.

Megan exchanged a quick look at Simon who didn't look all that pleased.

Joel looked at Blair then over his shoulder at Jim.

Henri and Rafe looked at each other then at Blair.

"And?" Rafe asked.

"And that means Blair didn't lie in his thesis," Jim irritably answered. "He lied when he had that first press conference and said he and his thesis was a fraud."

Joel's dark eyes softened. "And?" He enjoyed the silence. "Did you actually think we believed that Blair lied about something so important as his thesis? Not to mention lying about his best friend?"

"You knew?" Blair whispered in surprise.

"We didn't know what name to put on it until you got messed over," Henri shrugged. "But we knew something was up."

Blair and Jim looked at each other, neither knowing how to proceed.

"So this is the 'all there is to know about Ellison' info, huh?" Rafe grinned as he pointed at the notebooks on the coffee table.

"The condensed version," Blair muttered.

"Condensed?!" Henri scooted back on the sofa and stared at the notebooks with alarm. "What wheel do you exactly spin in all this anyway?"

"Blair's my Guide," Jim answered with quiet pride. "He keeps me balanced and centered."

"You knew. You guys knew." Blair shook his head. "Okay, look. I'll give you the real quick version. What I'm most concerned about is the zone out factor…"

Jim stepped into the kitchen and started to make coffee. It looked like it was going to be a long evening.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **SUNDAY 10:07 a.m. (Pacific time)**

Jim had just settled down on the couch with the Sunday paper when there was a knock at the door. He glanced at the closed bathroom door. He extended his hearing then quickly pulled it back.

"Hang down your head, Tom Dooley. Hang down your head and cry…"

Jim quickly pulled his hearing back and winced. "Find a key, Sandburg. Any key. I swear I think he does that deliberately."

Getting to his feet, Jim walked to the door and opened it. "Yes?"

A middle-aged man nervously stood in the hallway. "Does Blair Sandburg still live here?"

"Yeah." Jim crossed his arms over his chest. "Who are you?"

The man hesitated and looked down at his feet. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at Jim. "I'm his father."


End file.
